“I see.” Joy recognizes that look. Fiona is giving her a hard time on purpose, but not because she has a kink for watching people squirm. She’s testing Joy.

“Here’s the thing about my brother: he’s dense as hell. You’re going to have to make the first move, darling.”

“ ‘Dense’ is . . . definitely not a word I’d use for him.”

“Give it time. Trust me. I’ve known him longer. You like him, right? If you want anything to happen with that, you’re going to have to take charge.”

Joy’s phone vibrates in her pocket. It’s a text from Fox:

Running late. I should be there soon.

Anything Fiona tells you is a lie. Don’t trust her.

She laughs, sliding her phone back into her pocket. Deciding to go with the flow, she asks Fiona, “Take charge how exactly? What do you think I should do?”

“I’m so glad you asked that. How secure are you in your femininity?”

“What?” Joy laughs around the word.

“You’re going to have to woo him, darling. I’m talking flowers, dinner, presents, the works. He’s a total homebody nerd with an incredible sweet tooth—think books, movies, and making him fancy desserts. It’s the only way to get through to that thick brain of his. Besides, he deserves it.”

“Hmm,” Joy says with a snicker. “Well, if he told you everything, then you should know about Spa Day.”

“Spa Day?” Fiona eyes her, clearly sensing a trap. “He didn’t mention anything about that.”

Joy grins. “I bet he didn’t.”

Just as Summer said, game night doesn’t involve games, even though there’s a large stack of board games in the corner. They all sit around the glass coffee table, talking and drinking. That’s it.

Malcolm sits with Summer on the floor. His arm is wrapped around her waist and she’s leaning into him, completely relaxed and happy. Joy doesn’t feel much of anything seeing them like that. She’s not numb—that absolutely has a contradictory feeling. It’s more like the absence of angst hasn’t left anything behind. It’s a blank slate waiting to be filled with whatever Joy wants it to be.

Happy, she thinks. I want to feel happy when I look at them together.

Everyone takes turns telling stories about their lives, like that game Summer taught them to play on the trip. Joy chooses to listen rather than participate, with Fiona helpfully filling in background details for context every so often. After about an hour, she asks where the bathroom is. Joy doesn’t feel entirely unwelcome but there’s an unmistakable undercurrent of anticipatory vibes floating around the room—and she’s certain it’s centered on her. It’s like they’re all waiting for something to happen, for Joy to do something specific.